The New Girl
by kmacdonald
Summary: Hermione's cousin Carrie is also a witch, and when they each find out about the other, Carrie decides to finish her schooling at Hogwarts, instead of being home schooled.
1. Chapter 1

**Hermione's POV**

Up until a few weeks ago, I had been very much looking forward to my summer break. I had planned on visiting France with my parents for a week or two, and then coming back and staying the remainder of the summer at The Burrow with the Weasleys and Harry. Mr. Weasley had even managed to get his hands on tickets for everybody to go the Quidditch World Cup, and even though the sport itself held very little interest for me, I was looking forward to spending time with my friends.

But that had been before my parents had informed me that Carrie was coming to stay with us for a couple of weeks. It wasn't that I didn't want Carrie to come, because it had been several years since I had last seen my only and favorite cousin, but the timing of it all was terrible. I was worried about her finding out.

Carrie and I had always been the best of friends, although we lived on different sides of the world. When we were little, we would visit each other often, having sleepovers and talking all night, telling secrets and funny stories. But ever since I had started going to Hogwarts, I had only seen her twice, and spoken to her several times. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep my secret from her.

Not that she wouldn't believe it if I told her, because she most definitely would. When we were younger, Carrie and I had been polar opposites; I was the logical one, always trying to find reasonable answers for anything out of the ordinary. She, on the other hand, would simply shrug her shoulder and say that it must be magic. She had always believed in the mystical. I had been average height, with my bushy brown hair and brown eyes, a little too thin to be healthy and with large buck teeth. Carrie had been short, very chubby with the rosiest, most freckled skin I had ever seen, and she had had a large reddish coloured birthmark just under her right eye. She had curly black hair that her mother had always kept short, making her look like a small poodle, and deep, ocean blue eyes. She was loud and rambunctious, always laughing and joking, as where I was more reserved. She was my best friend when we were young.

"When is her plane landing again, Mum?" I asked impatiently as we waited at the airport.

"In about half hour," my mother replied, not looking up from her magazine. "Just sit down, Hermione; she'll be here soon."

I slumped into the seat opposite my parents and hunched forward with my face resting in my hands, thinking intently. My mother looked over top of the magazine and smiled, knowing that I was anxious about something. Apparently, she decided not to pry, and just let me speak when I was ready to.

"Mum," I said quietly. "Is there any way that I could leave for a day or two?"

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Mum looked at me, appalled. She finally put down her magazine. "Your cousin is flying in from Connecticut to see you for a couple weeks, and all you can think about is going to a silly sports thing with your friends. And what do you suppose; are you just going to leave her at the house all alone while you're out, gallivanting across the county?"

"I know, Mum," I said quickly, trying to appease her. "And I'm sorry for even thinking about it. But you know as well as I do that the Weasleys don't have a lot of money, and they already bought the ticket. I would feel bad if I let it go to waste."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Dad said softly, laying an arm around my mother's shoulders. "But your mother is right. You haven't seen Carrie in almost two years. You can't just leave her at the house."

I slumped back again, defeated. I would just have to write when I got home to tell them that I couldn't go with them; I'm sure Mr. Weasley would understand. Heck, he would probably want to meet my Muggle cousin and interrogate her. I laughed quietly to myself, thinking of the types of questions that she would be bombarded with.

_"Flight 346 from JFK has now landed," _said a nasally woman's voice from the speakers overhead. _"Passengers will be disembarking momentarily." _

Mum and Dad got up from their seats, and I jumped up as well. Despite this ill-timed visit ruining my big summer plans, I was excited to see Carrie again. I walked with my parents down to the other end of the terminal to wait.

"There she is!" Mum squealed, pointing into the crowd of passengers.

"Where?" I asked. I couldn't see her anywhere.

"Right there, silly," Mum laughed, pointing again, to a girl with long, thick black hair, dressed in a blue sweater. I was about to argue, when the girl looked up, and I gasped. It _was _Carrie, but she was different. She had grown; she was almost as tall as I was now. And with her growth spurt, she had also slimmed down, a lot. She had grown out her hair, and it hung down her back in a long, thick sheet of ebony curls. Her skin was now clear and smooth, with no discolouration at all. I was amazed.

She looked around the room for a moment, a crease between her eyebrows as she searched the crowd. I stood on my tip toes and waved my hand. She saw me, and her face split into a huge grin. I could see that the gap in her front teeth had been fixed.

"Hi!" she ran across the terminal and to where my parents and I were waiting for her. My mother stepped forward and hugged her tightly, laughing.

"Look at you!" Mum cried, holding her niece at arms-length to examine her. "You're beautiful! And you're so grown up, too."

"Thanks, Auntie," she laughed, and her laugh was high and cheery.

My father stepped over to her and held out a hand, which she took in a mock-formal shake. "It's good to see you back in England, my dear," he stated pompously.

"It's lovely to be back," she replied, as graciously as she could.

The looked at one another for a moment, before Dad grinned hugely and pulled her into a bear hug. She laughed and hugged him back, hard. I couldn't help but smile. Carrie was my father's sister's only child, and they had always been exceptionally close.

Finally, Carrie turned and looked at me. "Hello, Hermione," he laughed, pulling me into a hug.

"Hi, Carrie," I replied, hugging her back with everything I had in me. I found that I had tears in my eyes. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I actually missed my cousin. I heard her sniff a couple of times, and I knew she was trying not to cry, as well. We hugged for several minutes, not saying a word, but trying to regain control of our emotions.

Carrie was the first to pull away, and I couldn't see any trace of tears on her face or in her eyes. She just grinned at me.

"Well, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" she said, pulling me towards the luggage carousel.

"Yes," I replied. "How long has it been? Two years?"

"Three, I think," she said, thinking. "You had just finished your first year of boarding school. How, by the way, is that going for you?"

"It's great," I said quickly. "Just lovely, I really enjoy it. How about you, are you still getting home-schooled?" I was anxious to get off the subject of my school, but Carrie seemed just as anxious not to talk about her schooling. Maybe she wasn't doing well; I had always been better at school than she was.

"It's great," she replied, looking around nervously. "Just learning the usual."

"Well, that's good."

We fell into an awkward silence then, waiting for her baggage. I didn't know what else to talk about, what I could talk about it front of her.

Finally, Carrie's bags came into view, and I laughed.

"There was no way that we would have missed those," I giggled.

"That was the idea," she grinned at me, reaching across to grab two bright orange, pink, green and yellow plaid suitcases. "I didn't want them to blend in with everyone else's."

"Well, they certainly don't," Dad laughed, shaking his head. "Do you want me to take one?"

Carrie handed the suitcase to my father, who seemed surprised by how light it was.

"I'm impressed," he said as we walked towards the exit. "Whenever I travel with these two, they pack just about everything."

"I just know how to pack light," Carrie grinned, as though she was keeping a very good secret. I frowned, confused, but decided to just let it go.

The ride home was entertaining, to say the least. Although none of us had seen Carrie in almost a full three years, she fit perfectly into the family. We laughed and joked the entire way home, and I was surprised at how comfortable I still was with her.

Like always, Carrie was staying in my room with me, as opposed to the spare bedroom. We hauled her bags upstairs, and dumped them into a corner, to let Carrie unpack later. I offered to help her, but she was quite adamant that she should do it by herself. I just shrugged, and let her have it her way.

"So, what do you have planned for the summer?" she asked, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Anything fun and exciting?"

I hesitated, wanting desperately to tell her all about going to the World Cup, but I managed to keep it to myself.

"Nothing special," I smiled. "What about you?"

"Well…" she looked at her hands folded in her lap. "I wonder if your parents would let me leave for a day or two. It's just that one of my friends is coming here at the end of next week, and she wanted me to spend some time with her."

I looked at her incredulously. "The end of next week?" She nodded, looking slightly anxious. I couldn't believe my luck. Carrie wanted to go for a couple days at the exact time of the World Cup.

"I mean, I could tell her no," she said, a bit sadly. "We were just really looking forward to exploring London together."

"I don't think that they would have a problem with that," I said, praying that they would agree. "As long as Aunt Jeannie is okay with it, I don't see why they would say no."

"Should I go ask them?"

"Yeah, for sure," I jumped up. "I'll come, too."

We ran down the stairs together, and into the sun room, where Mum and Dad were relaxing with a cup of tea.

"Hi, girls," Mum smiled. "What's got you two so excited?"

"I was wondering," Carrie said quickly, "if I would be able to leave for a couple of days. A friend of mine is coming to London for a visit, and she wanted me to look around with her."

"When is this?" Dad asked.

"At the end of next week," she replied, looking at him with her big, blue eyes. Mum and Dad exchanged a surprised look, and then looked at me. I just grinned, shrugging. "And we can call Mom first, if that would make you feel better about it."

"Well, of course, I will call your mother," Mum said. "But if she says that it's okay, I don't see why you can't go."

"Yay!" Carrie skipped across the room and hugged my mother. "I'll go call her now." She ran from the room, and into the kitchen to call her mother.

"So, Mum," I said quietly. "If Carrie's going to be gone for a day or two…"

"Yes, Hermione," Mum laughed. "If Carrie is going be gone with a friend, then I don't see why you can't go to the match. I just want you to be careful."

"I always am, Mum!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "Thank you."

I ran from the room, passing Carrie as she walked back into the room with the cordless phone. She grinned at me, and I smiled back before running upstairs to the spare room, where Errol stood on top of the bedstead, waiting for me to reply to Ron's letter.

I snatched up a piece of fresh parchment, unstoppered my ink, and began to write:

_**Dear Ron,**_

_**I have just received your letter, and no, it is not acceptable to kidnap me from my home. I think my parents would be just a little upset with you. Fortunately, that will not be necessary, and I am able to come to the match. My cousin has made plans with a friend of hers to meet up in London for a day or two, at the exact time of the World Cup! Can you believe my luck? I know I can't. So, yes, I will meet you at the Burrow on the morning before we are to depart.**_

_**I shall see you all then.**_

_**Love from, **_

_** Hermione**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Carrie's POV**

I was so scared that my Aunt and Uncle weren't going to allow me to leave with Carla, but I was in luck. All they had wanted was confirmation from my mother that it was alright with her, and a promise that I would call them at least once a day so they knew that I was okay. I couldn't believe my luck.

I had been to the World Cup once before, when I was just a kid and it had been held in America. Carla had taken me then, too, and it was something that I would never forget. Because of that one trip, I was now a huge Quidditch fan; it had been that trip that had completely immersed me in the magical world.

I was counting down the days until Carla would arrive in England, and I had a very hard time paying attention to what my Aunt and Uncle were planning for us to do. I felt bad about my lack of attention, but I couldn't help it, and I wasn't the only one who had a hard time paying attention. Hermione, too, seemed excited about something, but I wasn't sure what. Math camp, maybe. I knew it was mean, but I laughed anyway. That would be just the thing that she would be interested in; she was not a sporty person, like me.

Finally, the day arrived. I had packed a small backpack with just the bare necessities; a change of clothes, tooth brush, toothpaste, and, of course, my wand. I tucked this carefully in among my socks, hoping to God that I wouldn't need to use it.

Hermione was waiting in the car with her parents. She was bouncing in her seat, and I laughed at her impatience as I climbed in the back with her.

"Well, it took you long enough," she scowled as I buckled myself in and set the bag down on the floor by my feet. "I want to get going."

"Where are you going?" I asked as we pulled out of the driveway.

"I'm going to stay with a friend and his family for a couple of days," she explained, still bouncing slightly.

"You're staying with _his _family?" I asked, smirking when she blushed furiously.

"Yes, with Ron and his family," she muttered, squirming uncomfortably. "And his sister Ginny, and my other friend, Harry."

"Oh, okay," I chuckled. "I was just clarifying. Do I get to meet this Ron?"

"No," she said quickly. "We're dropping you off, first. Maybe some other time."

"I'll hold you to that, you know," I told her, and she grinned sheepishly at me. "I will meet him, and sooner rather than later, I would prefer."

"Maybe," she muttered, and turned her attention to the passing cars out the window. I laughed, and followed her example.

We arrived at The Savoy much sooner than I thought we would, and I saw Carla standing outside, having a smoke while she waited for me. I waved at her as we crawled out of the car, and she waved back, grinning. Aunt … looked at her worriedly for a moment, and I could tell that she was debating whether to change her mind or not. I rolled my eyes and told my aunt not to worry. I knew that Carla would never let anything happen to me, but now that I thought of it, her outward appearance wasn't totally comforting.

She was wearing a pair of tight red skinny jeans and a white tank top with a black and grey striped sweater, which was far too big for her. Her black Converse were ratty looking and dirty. She had several piercings in her face and a large dragon tattoo on her back that trailed down her arms and could be seen because her sleeves were pushed up past her elbows. Like always, I thought she was beautiful.

I still remember the first time I had ever met Carla. My mother had decided against sending me to Salem's Academy of Magic in my second year, because of the lack of talent had by the teachers, and decided to have me home schooled instead. And because both she and Dad are Muggles, they couldn't teach me, so she began looking for a tutor for me. Carla had been the first person to be interviewed, and when Mom had opened the door to greet her, she had almost passed out. But Carla had proven herself to be very competent in teaching, and I quickly surpassed my grade level. She had been an almost permanent fixture at our house ever since.

And apart from magic, Carla taught me all of the things that an older sister should; all about boys, and dating and kissing; about drugs and alcohol, which she would not let me even look at until my most recent birthday; and, most importantly, in my books, she taught me everything about Quidditch.

"Hello, love," she said, walking forward and wrapping her arms around me. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

I laughed at her familiar, thick accent, and hugged her back. "I'm pretty sure it's only been three weeks, Carla. Not the end of the world."

"Well I know I've missed you," she laughed and kissed my cheek dramatically. "That's it; you're never leaving me again."

"Cut the dramatics," I rolled my eyes. "Carla, this is my Aunt….. and my Uncle…, and this is my cousin, Hermione."

"It's great to finally meet you all," she said, holding out her hand politely. "I've heard tons about you from Carrie and Mrs. Walker."

"It's lovely to meet you, too," Aunt …. Smiled back, deciding that Carla wasn't as bad as she had previously thought. "Are you sure you're up to handling this one by yourself?"

"Of course," Carla assured her, flinging an arm around my shoulders. "Carrie and I have gone on many little adventures together, haven't we?" I nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be perfectly fine, I'm sure."

"Alright," Uncle …. said, looking down at his watch. "Well, we're going to have to head out, if we're going to get Hermione to her friend's place on time."

"Oh, of course," I grinned. I leaned forward and hugged my family, leaving Hermione for last. "Now don't you have too much fun with your Ron," I stage-whispered to her, and to my satisfaction, she blushed beet red. I could hear Carla laughing from behind me. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Bye." Hermione got into the car, and they drove off, leaving me and Carla standing on the sidewalk.

"Are you ready?" she almost squealed, grabbing my arm and dragging me through the crowded streets. I laughed as her accent broadened; it only did that when she was extremely excited about something.

"Of course," I replied, clinging to her arm. "Where are we meeting up with your family?"

"Just a couple of blocks from here," she told me. "At this little pub called The Leaky Cauldron. You'll finally get to meet Seamus, too."

I could tell that she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye, but I refused to acknowledge her last comment. She had shown me a picture of her family one day two years ago, and I stupidly made a comment on the cuteness of her little brother; she hadn't left me alone about it since.

The Leaky Cauldron was only about six blocks away from The Savoy, where my Aunt and Uncle thought we were staying, but it seemed to take us absolutely forever to walk there. It was probably because I was just so nervous about meeting Carla's family and excited about getting to the camp ground where we were staying.

In all of the times that I had been in London, I had never been to this part of the city. The streets were narrower and the buildings, stores and houses alike, were more shabby and grubby looking. Carla and I continued down the street, stopping in front of a shabby, dark looking building. I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and was deeply grateful that my family was not with me; there was no way that they would let me go inside.

"Come on, Carrie, it's not that bad," Carla grinned brightly, noticing the looking on my face. "It's really a nice place; wait until you get inside."

I shrugged and, knowing that I didn't really have a choice in the matter, followed Carla through the heavy door and into the dim-lit pub. I was surprised when I looked around; I had expected to see a filthy interior and some pretty sketchy people, and I wasn't disappointed (there were some pretty shady characters in the corners of the room) but there were also groups of normally dressed people, even some families with young children.

"I told you it wasn't so bad," Carla whispered in my ear. "This is a pretty popular spot here in London."

"Yes, I see," I muttered. "Is your family here yet?"

"I don't see them," she muttered, frowning as she searched the room. "Come on, let's go grab a drink at the bar while we wait."

"I'm only fourteen," I reminded her quickly. Carla had a habit of trying to sneak me a drink every now and again. Usually, I didn't complain, but as we were in a pub in London where I knew no one, and I was about to meet her family for the first time, I didn't think it was appropriate for me to be intoxicated.

"Well, you can have a butterbeer," she grinned. "Those aren't very strong, you know."

Carla ordered our drinks, and then led me to a small table in the middle of the pub. I set my bag down on the floor in front of me, and looked cautiously at the bottle that she offered me.

"What is this, again?" I asked, peering through the bottle top.

"Butterbeer," she laughed. "Just drink it, Carrie. It's good for you."

"Yeah, that's what you told me about lemon gin, too," I muttered, but took a sip anyway. I was surprised by how sweet and rich it was; it was delicious.

Carla laughed and smacked her hand on the table, remembering the first time I had ever gotten drunk. It had not been a good night. "I told you to take a sip, you fool, not chug the whole bottle. You can't blame me for your stupidity."

"You were supposed to be watching me!" I accused, jokingly.

"It's a sad tale when a girl can't take a wee nip to the loo without her charge getting smashed," she grinned, raising a pierced eyebrow at me. "It taught you a lesson, though."

"Yes," I replied drily. "Don't go to parties with Carla."

She shook her head, still grinning, and took a sip from her glass. I wasn't sure what she was drinking, but I could guarantee that it wasn't butterbeer. Something caught her eye, and she choked on her drink for a moment before standing up and rushing towards the door. I turned and saw her embracing a short, sturdy looking man and a beautiful, plump woman, both who looked to be in their early-to-mid forties. A young boy stood beside them, grinning admiringly up at Carla, and after a moment, she turned and pulled him into a tight hug. Keeping her arm wrapped around the boy, she led the group to where I was still sitting.

"Carrie," she said, smiling brilliantly at me. "This is my parents, Joe and Sarah Finnegan." I looked up at the two of them, and they both grinned down at me, offering me their hands. I got up from my seat and shook both of their hands politely. "And this here, Carrie, is my little brother, Seamus." I caught the evil grin she gave me, and it took all of my self-control not to roll my eyes. Instead, I smiled at the boy beside her, and offered my hand, acting confidently. When he spoke, however, I nearly fell down. His voice was deep for someone so young, and although Carla's Irish accent was amazing, something about it coming from the lips of a better-than-decent-looking guy around my age made me want to swoon.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, looking me right in the eye as he shook my hand warmly.

"You too," I squeaked, trying my hardest not to blush, and knowing full-well that I was failing miserably.

"We've heard lots about you, dear," Carla's mother told me, sitting down at our table while her husband went to get drinks.

"Yeah," Seamus agreed, sitting in the seat beside mine. "You seem much smarter in person, though."

"Oh, hush yourself, Seamus," Carla scowled, smacking her little brother up the backside of his head. "You don't need to tell her everything that I tell you."

"Please, don't," I agreed. "I don't need to be reminded about all of the idiotic things that I've done."

Mrs. Finnegan smiled softly down at me, and Seamus laughed, making me blush more than I had before. Mr. Finnegan came back moments later, his hands filled with drinks for all of us. Everyone took their glass and took a large drink out of it immediately, but I was apprehensive.

"What is this?" I asked, peering into the glass. It was filled with a clear liquid that looked like water, but it was letting off a strong, alcoholic aroma.

"Fire whisky," Seamus replied brightly. "It's good stuff, it is."

"Is it strong?"

"Not really," he replied. "Just gives you a nice warm feeling, is all."

I took his word for it, and took a large mouth full of the liquid. It was much stronger than I had expected, and gave my mouth a slightly uncomfortable burning sensation, but I decided that it was rude to spit it back out, so I swallowed my mouthful in one large gulp. This was a mistake; the spirits burned my throat and down into my stomach, where they settled with a warmth that threatened to overwhelm me. I choked, and felt my eyes water. My face was as red as a Carla's pants.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, trying to fight back a laugh.

"You said it wasn't strong!" I coughed.

Carla looked up at me in concern, but once she realized that I was perfectly fine, she began to laugh, and it took her a very long time to calm herself down.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. "You should have seen your face, Carrie."

I crossed my arms and glared at her, my face still red, but now more from embarrassment than from the strong drink.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Finnegan asked, confused.

"Carrie's not used to alcohol," Carla explained. "The drinking age in the states is twenty-one; I should have warned you not to get her anything."

"Twenty-one!" Seamus looked at me as though I had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer and had been told I only had two weeks to live. "You poor girl! So, you've never drank before?"

"Nothing that strong," I admitted, pointing to the glass of Fire whisky that still sat in front of me. "But I did have lemon gin, once."

Carla snorted again, but I shot her a warning glance and she said nothing.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Finnegan said, looking at me with a frown. "I didn't even think about that."

"It's fine," I assured him. "I'm okay, now."

"Yeah," Carla stood up and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. "Carrie here is pretty tough; she can handle it."

I nodded, and Mr. Finnegan looked at his watch.

"Sweet Mother!" he exclaimed. "We've been here longer than I had planned. If we want to get to the tent tonight, we'd better leave now. The portkey is going to leave in a few minutes."

We all stood quickly, Seamus downing the remainder of my drink with a grin and a wink, and we all hurried from the pub and back out onto the busy London street.

"Where is it, Dad?" Carla asked.

"Down the next alley," he replied, pointing to an alley where a group of four others were headed. "With them, I suppose."

"Urg," I shuddered, and Carla fell back to walk with me. She knew how I felt about alleyways; I'd watched one too many episodes of CSI.

"You guys too, eh?" asked a man from the other group, holding up an old tire. "Well, come on then; it leaves in just under a minute."

We all took a good hold on the tire, and waited. I wondered idly what would happen if a Muggle happened to walk by in the next few seconds. Would we have to let go, and find another portkey? Luckily I didn't have to find out. A few seconds later, an eerie blue light shone from the tire, and I felt myself being jerked forward, and traveling into nothing at a frighteningly high speed.


	3. Chapter 3

Our campsite could not possibly have been any better. The tent was right in the center of the entire Irish encampment, which I knew, from my meager experience with Irish people, that we were in party central. It was early in the afternoon, and already there were people stumbling around, greeting friends and strangers alike with drunken embraces. I was almost taken to the ground twice by young men who thought I was their girlfriend, and had to be rescued by Carla, at first, and then by Seamus. Once he threw his arm around my shoulders, however, I seemed to stop getting as much attention.

"Here we go," Mr. Finnegan said, walking back into the tent. He had gone to see a friend of his, who was keeping a hold of our tickets, and had also brought back a jug filled with Merlin knows what. "Do you want me to hold onto them all?"

"Yes, Dad," Carla said quickly before I could get a chance to open my mouth. "I won't be in any shape to keep them safe tonight, and Carrie has a tendency to loose tickets." She stuck her tongue out at me. "It's one thing when it's just to a movie, but if she lost my ticket to see Ireland play in the World Cup, I may have to kill her."

I was going to argue with her, but then I realized that she wasn't joking. If I lost her ticket, she would cheerfully murder me and throw my body to the bottom of a lake where it would never be found. I nodded my head lamely.

"Alright," he said, handing the tickets to his wife, who quickly slipped them into a bag around her neck, which she then tied tightly and slipped down the front of her shirt. They were taking no chances with these, I could see. "So, who wants a drink?"

I was surprised when even Carla's mother walked forward with a plastic glass. Mr. Finnegan filled all of their cups and then looked up at me.

"Do you want some?"

"What is it?"

"Moonshine," he said, nodding proudly. "The best damn moonshine there is. My brother and I make it."

"Is it strong?" I asked.

Seamus laughed loudly, and I glared at him.

"Yes," he told me seriously. "This is strong stuff. I don't know if you could handle it."

I looked at his father and nodded. Carla shook her head, but grinned at me.

"Yeah, I'll take some."

Mr. Finnegan poured me a glass full of the moonshine and handed it to me. I sniffed it, and my stomach trembled.

"You don't have to drink it, you know," Seamus told me, and I was surprised to see that he wasn't laughing. "I was serious, I don't know if you can handle it."

"I'll manage," I told him.

"Here," he said, holding his hand out.

"What?" I pulled my drink away from him.

"Give me your drink," he grinned. "I'll mix it so it's easier to stomach."

I hesitated, know full well what my mother would say about me letting a stranger mix me a drink, but I trusted him. I sighed and let him take my cup from me. He went to the small refrigerator that was in the tent and pulled out a green bottle; I was a little surprised to see that it was just a bottle of 7up. He put my cup to his lips and chugged over half of what was in the cup, and then topped it up with the soda pop.

"Here," he handed it back to me. "That should make it easier to drink."

I took a small sip, and was shocked at how strong it still was. "Wow! How do you drink that stuff straight?"

"I'm used to it," he grinned. "But really, is it still too strong?"

I took another sip, and this time it wasn't too bad. "No, I think it's alright."

"You sure?"

"Yep," I popped my lips around the 'p'. "It's actually kind of good."

He grinned at me, and patted my back. "That's my girl."

We left the tent together, and walked around the site, looking for Carla and her parents. I knew absolutely no one that we met, obviously, but Seamus seemed to be best friends with every third person that we met, and drug me off to meet their entire family.

I had finished my first drink, and had gotten a refill at one of Seamus's cousin's tents. This time, I didn't have anything to mix with, so I sipped the drink carefully. Somehow, the taste didn't seem to be as strong as it had before, and I was able to stomach the moonshine by itself, just in smaller mouthfuls.

As the evening went on, I met more and more people, and drank more and more of the moonshine that was circulating around. At some point, people started bringing out fiddles and pipes, and began playing loudly and proudly. People began to dance, and I couldn't help but laugh and sway along with the time of the music.

At one tent, there were people standing in a circle, clapping their hands and cheering. Seamus and I shoved our way to the front of the crowd and saw that there were a few young men in their early twenties that were moving around in the circle, step-dancing, trying to outdo one another. I laughed and clapped with the rest of the crowd, and then I had an idea. I handed Seamus my glass, now empty for the third time, and stepped out into the middle of the circle. The man who was dancing stopped and looked at me, surprised that I had interrupted him. I thought he looked angry for a moment, but then he laughed at me, and stepped back with a low bow, making room for me to dance with him.

I grinned at him, and curtsied saucily before beginning to dance. He looked surprised that I actually knew what I was doing, and the crowd of people cheered. Then, with a flirty smile, he began to dance with me, following my steps perfectly. I laughed, and picked up the tempo, my feet flying faster than they ever had before, but still keeping with the steps. We turned to face one another and danced while looking each other in the face, laughing.

The song finally ended after a few minutes, and it could not have ended at a better time. My legs were aching with the unaccustomed exercise, and I was out of breath, but I had never felt so good in my life. The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and I looked at them, grinning like a maniac.

My partner wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug, kissing the top of my head. I hugged him back, and was grateful to have him to lean on, as my legs were starting to get weak.

"I wasn't expecting that," my partner whispered into my ear. "But I'm happy that I've finally found someone who can keep up." He held me close to his side, and I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Luckily, Seamus was right there.

"I didn't know you could dance," he grinned. He held his hand out to me and smiled warmly, but I could feel the tension radiating off him, and I looked up at my dance partner, who still hadn't let go of me. He was scowling darkly at Seamus.

"Yeah," I replied, grinning at him and taking his hand in mine. "I took lessons when I was a kid; honestly, I'm surprised that I managed to last that long."

Seamus pulled me rather roughly away from my companion, and hugged me himself, but this one was warm and friendly, and not the least bit sexual. I hugged him back enthusiastically. The man I had danced with skulked away from us and melted into the crowd.

"Carrie!" I pulled away and looked over the heads of the front row and sae Carla pushing her way through the crowd toward us. She was grinning brightly at me. "What was that? I've never seen you dance like that."

"I just don't do it much, anymore," I shrugged. "I took lessons when I was little, to make my Nan happy, but I stopped soon after she died. I've never enjoyed it much, but that was fun."

"Well, I can say that I'm impressed." She smiled at me, and then looked at Seamus's arm still wrapped around my waist and her grin grew so large that I felt that the Joker was standing in front of me. I blushed and stepped away from him, only to stumble and almost fall to the ground.

"Are you feeling okay?" Carla asked, catching me and holding me steady.

"Yesh!" I cried, slurring my words a little. "I'm feeling great."

Carla looked over my shoulder and raised her eyebrow at her brother. "Is she drunk?"

"Um…" he looked down at my empty cup, "I think so. She's had three glasses -"

"Three glasses of moonshine?" Carla exclaimed, looking down at me. "Are you insane? You can't have that much." She seemed genuinely upset.

"Too late," I giggled, hugging her. "Calm down, I'm perfectly okay."

"Yeah, Carla," Seamus said. "I was with her; she was fine."

"That's not the point," Carla snapped. "I was responsible for her, and now she's sloshed."

"That's not my problem," Seamus growled back. "Like you said, _you _were responsible, but you weren't there. It's not my fault that you were gone off snogging Michael Brooke, Carla." It may have been full dark now, but I could still see her face flame red.

"Who is that?" I asked, looking up at her. "You've never told me about a Michael Brooke."

"He's no one," she said quickly. "Come on, let's get you back to the tent. We should get to bed."

In actuality, I was pretty tired, so I went with her without complaint. I was surprised when Seamus didn't follow us.

"Is he not coming?" I asked, confused.

"Do you want him to come?" Carla looked down at me, her arm still wrapped around my shoulders. I could hear the smirk in her voice.

"No, I was just wondering," I replied, a little too hastily. "Are you just going to let him go off on his own? He's drinking, too, you know."

"Oh, I know he is," she grinned. "But he's not a little girl, and he's got friends all over the place. He'll be fine."

"I'm not a little girl," I grumbled as we reached the campsite. It was still empty.

"Of course you're not."

Carla helped me into the small bedroom that we were sharing, and handing me my pyjamas. She turned around while as I struggled to get into them, and then helped me into bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning I woke to the sound of breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. Every slam of cupboard doors and bang of pots and pans echoed through my head like the bells on Notre Dame, and I almost cried out in the pain. I bit my lip and held it in, but I must have made some sound because Carla stuck her head into the bedroom and grinned mischievously at me.

"And how are you feeling this morning?" she asked sweetly, a little louder than usual.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to pretend that I was perfectly okay, but when I sat up, my head spun and I had to lie back down, groaning.

"You sure?" she laughed, and the sound was as disturbing as nails on a chalkboard; it was all I could do not to scream at her to shut up.

"No," I admitted, covering my eyes with my hands. "Why do I feel so gross?"

"Do you remember that night with the gin?" Carla asked, sitting on the foot of my bed. I nodded. "Well, you're hung over, just like that night."

"But I only had three glasses," I complained. "I should not feel like this right now."

"Ah, but you forget, my dear friend," she grinned. "Most of the gin was mixed with something else; most of what you drank last night was straight. So you drank a lot more actual liquor than you think you did."

"And," added Seamus, prancing into the room with a grin on his face. "You also forget that gin is, what, 35-40%?" He looked at Carla and she nodded. "Moonshine is more like 90% alcohol."

"Of course it is," I groaned. "Why did you let me drink it?"

"Because it's good for you!" he laughed, and, had I felt well enough to get up off the bed, I would have strangled the boy. "You'll survive, Carrie, and when you go to drink next time, you'll be able to handle it better."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm never going to drink again," I grumbled. My headache was starting to fade slightly, but not enough to keep me from cringing when both Carla and Seamus roared with laughter. I lifted my hand from my eyes and glared at the pair of them.

"Of course you are, silly," Carla laughed. "Everybody says that, at least once in their life, but they always drink again. You'll feel better once you've eaten."

"Oh no!" I cried. "I can't eat anything at all. I'll get sick."

"You have to eat something, Carrie," Carla said sternly. "Believe me, it helps. It might not feel like it yet, but what your body needs is food. So up you get!"

Carla stood up off the bed and ripped the blankets back, completely exposing me. My shirt had been pulled up overnight, so my stomach was showing, and I was wearing very short pyjama shorts. I yelped and tried to pull the blankets back up, but I couldn't reach them. Groaning, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up, only to fall to my knees. Seamus lifted me up and held me until my legs got used to holding me up.

"Go on out, Seamus," Carla ordered him while rooting through my bag and pulling out a change of clothes. "I'm going to help her get dressed."

"Sure you don't need help with that?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at us.

"Out!" we cried in unison.

"Alright, alright!" he laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'm leaving. But don't say I didn't offer."

Carla shook her head as Seamus left the room. "Typical teenage boy," she muttered. "And here I was thinking that I've taught him better than that. I guess he'll need a bit of a refresher."

"It's fine," I giggled, sitting back down as she handed me my clothes. "I'm sure he was just playing around."

"He'd better hope that he was," she replied drily. "If not, then I'm going to have to kick his -"

"Are you girls ready for breakfast?" Mrs. Finnegan asked from the other side of the door.

"Sure, Mum," Carla called back to her. "We'll be out in just one more second. You start without us."

Breakfast was a simple affair, with just some eggs and bacon fried up, but it seemed to be just what my stomach needed, and before lunchtime, I was completely back to normal. Carla showed me around a little more, and I was embarrassed with the amount of people that had recognized me from the night before. And, at one point, I even got to meet Michael Brooke, whom I approved of, majorly.

"He was cute!" I exclaimed as we walked away from Carla's friends' campsite. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw the tall blonde watching us walk away. He waved and grinned, his green eyes flashing with merriment. "And very friendly."

"Stop looking at him!" Carla hissed, and I laughed before turning around to face front.

"So what's going on between you two?"

"Nothing," she insisted. "Nothing at all. We've just been really good friends, for quite a few years now."

"Bullshit!" I laughed, but I decided to leave her alone about him, for now.

We returned to the campsite well after lunch, both stuffed with the snacks that we had picked up along the way. I saw Seamus and his mother standing outside the tent, talking to a small group of three people, all of whom looked to be about my age, but we were still too far away to see them well.

As we got closer, I saw that there were two boys, one a tall red head, and the other was still tall, with messy, jet black hair and a pair of round glasses. I glanced quickly at the girl, and stopped dead in my tracks, gasping.

**Hermione's POV**

__I heard a loud gasp behind me, but there was so much going on here that I didn't bother turning around to see who it was.

"Ah, there you are," Seamus's mother said, looking at whoever was behind me. "Come and meet our guests, Carrie."

_Carrie? _I thought, and glanced over my shoulder. My mouth fell open, and I turned sharply on my heel. My cousin stood there, staring at me with the girl that she had left with the day before.

We stared at each other for a moment, while Mrs. Finnegan made hasty introductions that neither one of us seemed to hear, and then Carrie shook her head and spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked me, taking a step closer.

"What do you mean?" I asked in turn. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see the Quidditch World Cup," she said slowly, and my breathing sped up. _How did she know? _

"Me too."

We stared at each other for another couple of minutes, not knowing what to say. Finally, Ron spoke up.

"Do you two know each other?"

"Obviously, Ron," Harry scoffed at the dumb question.

"You know what I meant!" he snapped. "How do you guys know each other?"

"This is my cousin, Ron," I said, without taking my eyes away from Carrie's face. I knew that my face mirrored the confused and slightly amused expression that my cousin wore. "The one that came to visit me this summer."

"So…" Carrie said quietly. "You're a witch?"

I nodded. "And you?"

"Of course," she laughed. "Why else would I be here?"

We were quiet again, and then we flew into each other's arms, laughing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she almost screamed. "You should have told me."

"Well, you didn't tell me, either," I reminded her. "I didn't think you would believe me."

"Are you serious?" she looked at me like I was insane. "Even if I wasn't a witch I still would have believed you; you know how crazy my imagination is."

"So you're Carrie." She looked at Harry as he grinned and held out his hand. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Carrie looked at him for a minute, and then she punched my arm. I looked at her, and she glared back at me, looking annoyed.

"You never told me that you were friends with Harry Potter!" she screamed at me. "How exciting is that?"

"In my defence," I laughed, rubbing my arm. "I didn't realize that you even knew who Harry Potter was."

"We'll just let you two chat," Ron said, dragging Harry away. "Bring her back to meet Dad and the guys."

I nodded, and we began to walk slowly back towards the Weasley's campsite. We looked at each other, again, in silence, and the laughed, again, simultaneously. I still couldn't quite believe that Carrie was standing here in front of me, a wand sticking out of her pocket, at the Quidditch World Cup.

"I'm having a really hard time believing you're really here," she said, shaking her head. "I'm thinking that I'm still drunk or something."

"Nope," I laughed as we reached the Weasley's site. Mr. Weasley and Percy were frowning at us coming, and Fred and George were peering curiously at Carrie. "I'm really here." I paused for a moment, and then caught what she had just said. "Wait; what do you mean by still drunk? You were drunk?"

Carrie grinned sheepishly. "I had a little bit too much to drink last night, apparently. I felt like shit this morning, I can tell you that much."

"Carrie!" I was shocked. "When did you start drinking?"

"Last night."

I couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Who's your friend, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked as we drew nearer. "And where are the boys?"

"They're gone to get the water," I explained, walking up to them. "And this is my cousin, Carrie. The one who came to visit."

Fred, or George, I couldn't really tell them apart, looked at me, surprised. "I thought she was going somewhere with a friend."

"I was," Carrie replied, her tone making it obvious that she didn't like being talked about like an inanimate object. The twin, whichever he was, seemed to understand, and his ears reddened. "But this is where I was coming. I just didn't think that I would meet up with Hermione here. I mean, seriously, does this girl look like a witch to you?"

I laughed with the rest of them, knowing that she was right. I looked just as normal as any other Muggle girl. Just by looks, you would never know that I was different.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you," Mr. Weasley said, holding out his hand. Carrie took it. "I'm Arthur Weasley, and these are my kids; Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, and Ronald is gone to get water with Harry," he put his hand on Ginny's shoulder. "And this is my only daughter, Ginny."

"It's nice to meet you all," Carrie grinned. "But I should really head back; Carla's probably going to start looking for me soon."

"Alright," I said, hugging her. "I probably won't see you again until we're at home."

She shook her head. "Probably not; but we can talk then. It was nice to meet you all." She waved once more at the Weasley's and took off, back towards the Finnegan's campsite.

"So that's your cousin," Ginny said, watching her go. "Did you know she was a witch?"

"I had no idea!" I laughed, sinking down on a chair. "I just met her at Seamus' tent, and we both just stared at each other like idiots for a couple of minutes. I can't believe that she's here; maybe magic is in our blood."

"She's really pretty, too," Ginny mumbled, and to my surprise, all of the boys murmured in agreement, including Fred and George.

"Does she go to school anywhere?" Percy asked.

"Um…no," I replied. "She gets home schooled; but maybe she can come to Hogwarts!"

"Maybe!" Ginny seemed just as excited as I was by this idea. "You should talk to her about it, and soon."

"I will."


	5. Chapter 5

Beer flowed and pipes blast through the night air as we danced and sang our celebrations. Ireland had won the World Cup, much to my surprise. I had assumed, because of Krum, that the Bulgarians would be the obvious winners. A hiss of anger answered my assumption.

"Krum's but one player," one woman yelled at me. "The Irish are all amazing; we don't rely on just one good player; we play as a team!"

A great cheer went up, and I felt myself blush at the glares people shot at me. I sank back towards the tent, and hurried away from the crowd.

I couldn't well say that it was quiet out of the mob, as the celebrations could be heard for miles, but it was more peaceful the further away I got. I walked slowly, revealing in the stillness. The rest of the Irish encampment was desolate; it seemed that everyone was crammed into just a few, small sites.

Overhead, the stars were looking dim and unspectacular compared to the brightness of the fireworks being shot off from behind me, and I grinned. I had always loved fireworks. I stood and watched them for a moment in peace, and then I heard screaming that was not coming from the Irish. I glanced to my right and saw a mob of people marching towards me, wands raised, and there were people floating in the air above them, crying and screaming. All of the people were dressed in long black cloaks, and were wearing masks.

I stood there, stunned and unmoving for several minutes, watching as the mob drew nearer. One cloaked figure near the front lowered its wand and blasted away a tent that was merely feet away from me. I shrieked, and began to run back to the crowd.

"Carrie!" Carla came out of nowhere, grabbing my hand. "Come on, we have to get out of here! Now!"

Carla dragged me through the crowd, dodging around people and blasting tents out of the way with her wand. I was constantly being run into; I tripped several times and almost fell, but Carla never once let go of my hand. Everybody else in the campground seemed to be just as terrified as we were, but they were much less organized; there were groups of people running in every which direction, no one really knowing where to go.

We made our way to the edge of the campground and into the stand of trees that stood there; after a quick glance around, I realized that this was a popular spot, and that there were just as many people here as there were out in the open.

"Stay here, Carrie!" I heard Carla yell at me, finally letting go of my hand. "Hide yourself in the brush or in a tree; stay low. I'll be back soon."

"Wait!" I grabbed her hand again so she couldn't leave me. "Where are you going?"

"I need to help," she explained quickly. "The Ministry's guards can't control this lot by themselves."

She wrenched her hand out of mine and left me standing by myself in the edge of the trees.

I stood anxiously at the edge of the trees, trying desperately to stay out of the way of fleeing families, but it was difficult, as they were coming at me from every which way. I leaned against the trunk of a small birch tree, trying to make myself as small as possible, but even that didn't seem to be working.

Suddenly, I heard a vaguely familiar voice.

"Come on, Ginny, let's go."

"Wait, Fred!" the small form of Ginny Weasley made her way through the crowd and to where I was waiting. "Carrie?"

"Hey!" I waved weakly. "Where are you going?"

"Away from here!" George said quickly. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

"Why are you here?" Fred asked, looking over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be with the Finnegans?"

"I got separated from them during the celebrations," I explained as the explosions continued from behind me. "Carla took me here to get away from…that…but she went back to help the Ministry."

"She just left you here, alone?"

"It's not like she really had a choice!" I snapped at him. "There was no one else for me to go with, and she needed to go and help."

"Come with us then!" Ginny said quickly, grabbing my hand as her brothers tried to drag her deeper into the forest.

"I can't!" I cried, pulling back. "She told me to wait here for her! She won't know where to find me."

"Well, you can't stay here," Fred said firmly, handing Ginny to George. "If you won't come with us, I'm going to have to carry you."

Despite the severity of the situation, I couldn't help but snort out a laugh. "You couldn't carry me," I told him. "I'm too heavy."

Without another word, Fred Weasley bent down and scooped me up, tossing me lightly over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began to walk further into the woods, ignoring my gasped complaints and protests. Despite him kidnapping me, I was fairly impressed that he didn't seem even a little disturbed by my added weight.

George and Ginny hurried along behind us, Ginny giggling at me and George grinning at the horrified expression on my face. I just glared back at them, and muttered death threats under my breath, much to the amusement of my escort.

Finally, I felt myself being set down, right-side up. I looked at the three grinning gingers in front of me for a moment, and opened my mouth to tell them off, but the blood that had run to my head was now running back down to my feet, and I got dizzy. I swayed for a minute, and then sat down heavily on the roots of a large tree.

"You okay?" Fred asked, squatting down in front of me. He seemed genuinely concerned.

"Just a head rush," I said quickly, hating to look weak in anyway. "No thanks to you, Fred."

"How did you know?" he shared a look with his twin, and then looked at me again, confused.

"Because the blood was rushed to my head when you carried me," I replied, shaking my head to clear it, and then stood up again.

"No," Ginny frowned, just as confused as her brothers. "How did you know he was Fred?"

"Oh." I looked at them all. "You are Fred, right?"

"Yes," he replied. "But how did you know?"

"I just remembered," I told him. "I'm usually really good at telling people apart from their twins."

"But we're identical!" George exclaimed. "Even Mum has trouble telling us apart, sometimes."

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, suddenly aggravated. "Is this really the most important thing right now? Honestly, I would be more concerned where Ron, Harry and Hermione are, if I were you."

The twins looked around them, suddenly worried. It was like they hadn't even realized that the other three weren't with them. I laughed silently to myself for a moment, and then looked into the sky as something caught my attention.

"Or, you know, be worried about that." They followed my gaze, and George swore loudly. It seemed that the entire forest had caught sight of the apparition, as there was suddenly a loud commotion all through the trees; people running and screaming.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, scared as Fred pulled her close to his side and looked around, as though expecting to see someone standing near us. We were alone.

"The Dark Mark," Fred told her, sounding scared himself. "I wonder who's cast it, George."

"No idea," his twin replied, sounding just as scared. "Maybe we should get out of here, before anyone else comes along; we're pretty close to it."

Fred nodded and reached out to me, and I eagerly took his big, warm hand in my own small, cold one. He began walking quickly away from the mark in the sky, and George took up the rear, looking anxiously over his shoulder as we went.

"What's the Dark Mark?" I asked, glancing up into the sky, where the skull still shone brightly above the trees. "Why is everyone so scared?"

"It's You-Know-Who's mark," George said quietly. "And since those people out there-" he nodded in the direction that we had come "-people are a little worried that he's behind it."

I stopped dead in my tracks, causing Fred to spin around in an effort to keep a hold on me and George to walk into me, nearly knocking me to my feet. I didn't care, though; I was terrified.

"But he can't be back! Can he?"

"Of course not," Fred assured me, shooting a death glare at his brother. "It's probably just some of his old followers had a little too much to drink and decided to have a party."

"There are Death Eaters here?"

"Some," Fred admitted, coaxing me into walking with him again. "The ones who could get away are still hanging about; the Malfoys, for example."

I nodded, but didn't say another word. We hurried through the forest for a few more minutes in silence, not seeing a soul. I was worried for Carla, and for the Finnegans, and most definitely for Hermione. I didn't have the feeling that she would be able to defend herself very well if it came down to it; she had never been good at self-defence.

**Hermione's POV**

Mr. Weasley led us through the woods, looking for Fred and George, who had taken Ginny into the woods, and for Bill, Charlie and Percy, who were looking for the other three. I was worried about them; I hoped to Merlin they were alright.

"Carrie? Carrie!" Carrie's friend Carla was running through the woods ahead of us, looking around frantically. I could clearly see that there were several large gashes in her face and chest, and that she was limping while she ran.

"Are you okay, Miss Finnegan?" Mr. Weasley asked, holding out a hand to stop her. "You look like you've had quite the going over."

"I lost her!" she cried, taking Mr. Weasley's arm. "I told her to stay there while I went to help, but now she's gone! I can't find her anywhere!"

"You lost Carrie?" I glared at her, panicked at the thought that my cousin was one of the ones that were on the missing list.

"I'm sorry," she cried, tears streaming down her face as she realized who I was. "I don't know where she is. Please, help me find her!"

"Come with us," Mr. Weasley said. "We're off to find the rest of my kids; maybe we'll find her on the way."

Carla nodded, and fell into step with Mr. Weasley.


End file.
